


Lycosidae

by anoned



Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Action & Romance, Bisexual Peter Parker, F/M, Female Peter Parker, I Took Spider-Man Out Of New York And It Sucks, Mindless self-indulgence, Teen Angst, Teen Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 02:44:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18512284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anoned/pseuds/anoned
Summary: New York is killing Penelope Parker, slowly and surely.Aunt May has had enough. She's not going to lose another Parker to New York City.They move. To Beacon Hills.Or, You Can Take The Spider Out Of The City, But It'll Still Find Trouble





	1. Prologue: Dichotomies and Death

**Author's Note:**

> This is the much less angsty fem!Peter fic that I have going right now, so I thought I'd share it with you.
> 
> It's self-indulgent to the MAX and I'm under no illusions that this is a literary masterpiece. But I have a lot of fun writing this, so I hope someone out there enjoys my nonsense <3

Here’s the thing about Spider-Man: He belongs to New York City.

You might even say that he’s an essential New York landmark. A tourist destination in his own right, probably the only tourist trap that New Yorkers don’t resent.

Busy New Yorkers ignore him when he’s swinging and scaling buildings overhead. They know that he’ll be there again tomorrow, and the next day, and the next day. These days, native New Yorkers only get excited when he puts on a show, or he beats up the sewer-crocodile, or he starts directing traffic so people can get to work on time for once.

Or, sometimes, when they’re drunk and full of love for their city.

Tourists hoot and holler and snap pictures—all blurry, unless they ask first. Then he’ll give them a goofy pose.

T-shirts on the sidewalk have his face (mask) on them. Keychains in tourist shops show him shooting off his webs. People call in to radio shows to talk about that time that they were rescued by Spider-Man.

Sometimes, street vendors offer him free samples. He’s gotten free hotdogs, free falafel, free kebabs, free pierogi, and one time he got a free lollipop from a Weed World van in Hell’s Kitchen. It had absolutely no effect, because of his mutation or because it’s a scam. He doesn’t know which one.

The NYPD doesn’t hate him much anymore, Tony Stark has made a public statement of support for him, and the Daily Bugle only publishes disparaging remarks about him on days that end in -y. Reports from just last month indicate that people feel 15% safer on the streets of New York than they did before his debut.

And Spider-Man? Is proud to belong to New York City.

It’s easy to see, his pride and his exhilaration.

The way that pedestrians can sometimes hear joyful yelling when he flings himself off of skyscrapers. The way that he’s on a first name basis with half of the hot dog vendors in Queens.

How sometimes, on slow nights, he’ll scale the Baxter Building until Johnny Storm comes out, and the way that they race to the Statue of Liberty together. Laughing and making enough of a scene to inspire a few bylines the next morning. How most nights, when the sun is setting, he’s perched on top of Stark Tower.

But his love for the city is evident in less flashy, more meaningful ways. There has been at least one Spider-Man sighting a day in New York since his debut roughly two years ago. He has gone head-to-head with creatures ten times his size, without hesitation. He has protected citizens from the brutality of the police, and he has protected the police from the brutality of some really wild mutated supervillains.

Spider-Man belongs to New York City. He belongs  _ in  _ New York City. He is the sworn protector of New York City. He’s protective, fierce in his devotion—all of New York (sans Staten Island) is his family.  
  


* * *

 

On a completely unrelated note: Penelope Parker has only one person that she can truly call her family.

Her parents died when she was an infant. She did not know them. She doesn’t remember much about them at all, but she knows that they loved her. She also knows that they left her to board a flight to Switzerland for something work-related. She knows that they never came back.

Her Uncle Ben died two years ago. She’d known him very well. He’d raised her, alongside Aunt May, for twelve years. He let her “help” him whenever he did handiwork around the house. Toddling after him, she had learned about plumbing and woodworking and architecture and electricity—and then, when she was a little older, he’d set her lose just to laugh when she almost flooded their small apartment. He had learned how to brush her hair into pretty braids when she came home jealous of Liz Allen’s fancy ‘do in second grade. He had taught her how to cook, until the both of them could tease Aunt May about her culinary disasters without any hypocrisy on their parts. She’d held him while he died.

Mr. Stark is careful to keep a measure of distance between the two of them. She understands why. Mr. Stark has lost a lot of people too, she thinks. And it’s not like she’s very good at staying safe. He’s invested in protecting her, but she doesn’t really think that he’s invested in her happiness. Still, she’s so intensely grateful for everything that he’s done for her, what with the internship and the suit upgrade and even the life lessons. It’s not like Uncle Ben, but she learns and she’s happy when she’s talking to him.

She feels like she can’t be serious with Ned. He’s been there for her through everything. He knows both sides of her. But she’s been through a lot, and Ned has never been one for heart-to-hearts. He’s great for happy distractions, and he’s perfect for a fun day out. She feels guilty whenever she brings down the mood of the day with her drama. And, although Ned never holds it against her, she still feels a degree of separation. A distance that started when Ben died, and has grown exponentially with every patrol she’s run.

MJ just moved from being an acquaintance to being a maybe-friend. Her first female maybe-friend! But they had just started to get closer a few months ago, near the end of freshman year. There’s so much that they don’t know about each other. MJ doesn’t know Penny or Spiderman, and while it’s refreshing sometimes, it isn’t exactly conducive to building a strong friendship.

Johnny is…...certainly something. He makes her feel light and invincible. He makes her feel witty and smart and strong, and she loves how she can just let go with him. She doesn’t have to hold back her strength. She can focus on quick comebacks and laughing taunts, fun little competitions that usually end with both of them panting and smiling on a roof somewhere. A couple times, they just collapsed on top of the Statue of Liberty and did some stargazing. It’s nice, and sometimes she thinks that…...but Johnny only knows Spider-Man. He only knows one side of her, and that side isn’t even a  _ her _ .

No, there’s only one person that Penelope can call her family. Aunt May.

Penelope would die for her Aunt. Granted, Penelope would die for anybody on the streets of New York. But Penelope would double-die for her Aunt.

She would lie for Aunt May. She would spend hours upon hours trying to hone her newfound mutant abilities to get revenge for May’s husband (for Uncle Ben, for herself, but mostly for May, who would not stop crying and crying when she thought that Penny was asleep).

She would create an alter ego, another identity, another life so that Aunt May would always have a layer of protection from people who wanted Penelope dead. She would tell baldface lie after baldface lie to her friends, don a spandex suit, miss countless classes, and lose the trust of just about everyone that she knew—all to maintain a secret identity  _ for Aunt May _ . If she didn’t have Aunt May, Penny wouldn’t have anyone that she needed to protect. She could ditch the mask, the padding around her shoulders, her voice modulator. She could bring some confidence, snark, strength into the life of Penelope Parker, instead of hiding her civilian self away. If it weren’t for Aunt May, she’d have nothing.

But she also wouldn’t have anyone to come home to. Nobody to call family.

For Aunt May, she would turn herself into a smaller version of Penelope Parker. A weaker, meeker, meagre slip of a thing. This Penelope would faint if she saw blood. She would never be able to do a pull-up, let alone catch a car one-handed. This Penelope is scared of heights. She babbles, she doesn’t banter. Anyone who looked at her would think “that girl is not hero material”. “Sweet,” they’d think, “sweet and shy.”

For Aunt May, Penny would spend her entire life playing a role. She would make herself smaller and she would make herself bigger and she would give herself up to a life of dishonest melancholy and exhaustion. She would be Penelope Parker, and she would be Spider-Man.  
  


 

But that kind of love is a two-way street. And Aunt May would do anything for her niece, for her  _ daughter _ . She’d give up everything to make Penelope happy. And that’s where things start to really go wrong

Spider-Man belongs in New York City. And Penelope Parker belongs with her Aunt.

And Aunt May has decided that New York City is making Penelope Parker miserable.  
  
  


_ What do you mean we’re moving? _


	2. A Heart-To-Heart and Hell-On-Earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aunt May has had enough. Penny gets some bad news, but not before she angsts all over us.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof. i'm warning y'all now, this is gonna be longer than it has any right to be.

Penny has a system. During the school year, her Aunt May thinks that she’s at Academic Decathlon practice after school. Or she’s at her Stark internship. 

Instead, Penny walks a few blocks away from Midtown, ducks into an alley, and changes into her Spider-Man suit. She stops muggers, walks a few girls home safely, plays a few round of hopscotch with the neighborhood kids, convinces Karen to eavesdrop on the police radio, and helps out where she can. Then, at seven or eight, she ducks back into her alley and changes back. She walks back home, in the front door, and starts making dinner for when Aunt May gets back home at 10pm. Sometimes she stays up until 4am to do homework. Sometimes she goes back out on patrol when May falls asleep. And sometimes she sleeps.

She doesn’t sleep much. Not when she could be making May happy with completed homework (and one less concerned call home from school), or she could be saving someone’s life as Spider-Man. Sometimes, she can convince herself that her mutation has made it so she doesn’t need to sleep as much as she used to. And maybe it’s even true.

Now, though, it’s summer time. She doesn’t need an excuse, really. May will be at the hospital from 10am until 10pm. She is free to patrol all day. She’s careful to make sure that her schedule doesn’t drastically change—she doesn’t want an observant villain or journalist to realize that she’s a student—but she’s undeniably more active.

She does the same things on patrols. Webs up would-be rapists, makes bank robbers look like fools, and sometimes she taunts a wannabe supervillain. She keeps up a constant commentary, either to Karen, to criminals, or to victims. Sometimes she teams up with Johnny—he’s realized by now that she’s in high school, just like him, and it’s made him absolutely shameless. He leaves her messages in the New York skyline. If she doesn’t notice them immediately then twitter will inform her eventually (#spideytorch has trended twice since she’s met Johnny a few months ago). Her patrols are easier—more like a game of tag than cat-and-mouse. It’s nice.

But in the summers, she can get carried away. She can spend too much time on patrol. Sometimes her muscles ache until they cramp up and spasm. Sometimes her adrenaline is the only thing that keeps her upright. 

Sometimes her fancy new suit is the only thing that keeps her bone from splitting and jutting out of her body. She’s had to go to Stark Tower four times already, to repair the suit around her knuckles, the pads of her fingers, and the soles of her feet. Mr. Stark looked more and more worried each time she came in. On her most recent visit, he’d reinforced the entire suit and looked at her like she was already a ghost.

Sometimes, she goes home with bruises. Bruises all along her face. A split lip. Busted ribs. A bad limp. A broken and bloody nose. They’ll be gone by the next day, in all likelihood. But May sees, and Penny can never give her an convincing answer. For someone who has been lying about her life for going on two years, she still can’t look her Aunt in the eye and lie to her.

It’s the end of August. School is starting up in less than two weeks, and Penelope is thinking about how many hours she won’t be on patrol in the upcoming months. It’s too high a number, when she considers the crime rate in New York. It’s too much time in school (especially when she considers how much of that time will be spent in Mr. Schuth’s Honors Chemistry class, ew) and not enough time on the streets. 

She’s distracted by her mental math, sitting across from May at the dinner table. There are only two chairs at the table, because Penny broke the third when she was first breaking in her super strength. And then, after, they didn’t need the third.

May says something, and it sounds kind of like a question, but Penny doesn’t hear her words.

“You like it?” she tries to ask, but not even superpowers can help her words pass through the lasagna that she’s chewing. It comes out more like: “oo uhk uht?”

May’s a champ, so she says “I always do, kiddo.”

Penny beams—careful to keep her mouth closed—but May doesn’t smile back. Instead, her fork twirls uselessly against her meal, and she says “Pen, you know that I’d make dinner if I could, right? And if you didn’t want to, we could always order in?”

Penny has never met a responsibility that she didn’t try to drag onto her superpowered shoulders. “‘Course, Aunt May. You’re working, I like to cook. It’s the least I could do.” Her voice is light, carefree, and you would never guess that she has watercolor bruises blooming up and down her side.

There’s a pause.

“It’s really not.” The words are weighted, and spoken with purpose. Penelope immediately straightens her posture (hiding the pained wince completely, yes!) and tries to figure out where this could possibly, possibly be going.

“It’s not...what?”

“It’s not the least that you could do, Pen.”

Which,  _ wow _ , that totally didn’t sound like May.  _ Have I been slacking off? _ Penny thinks frantically. 

“Look, I know that I didn’t do too hot in school last quarter, but I think I really got my head on over the summer, got my priorities in check. And my room’s kind of a mess, but I’ve been really busy with my internship, and I’m trying to keep up with Academic Decathlon—you’d think practice ends in the summer, but there’s always more stuff to learn and I don’t want to fall behind—and, well—”

But as Penny speaks, she can see Aunt May’s shoulders hunch over. Her lips purse, and she stops twirling her fork against her plate.

“Have I….Have I made you feel like you have to do everything? Have I been putting that much pressure on you?”

Penny’s leg stops bouncing, she stops twirling her hair around her finger, and she stops breathing for a hot second. She looks like a statue. May looks like she’s been struck. Penny opens her mouth to deny it, but there are no words.

_ Of course not _ , she wants to say.  _ It’s just because I can handle it _ .  _ I’m not a normal girl anymore, Aunt May. I can handle this. _

Sometimes that even feels true.

“God, Ben was so much better at this than I am. I’m just not sure how to do so many things now, without him. That...that doesn’t meant that you have to try to take his place, Penelope. You’re sixteen. You’re a kid! It’s summer! You should be at Ned’s watching Star Wars, or climbing trees, or—or—”

“But I’ve been doing that!” Penny hastily butts in. “I’ve seen Ned like every day this summer, I’ve told you all about it!”

There’s a silent beat, and then—

“Are you locking that in? Is that your final answer? That’s what you’re telling me?”

And, god, that tone of voice. She can feel her body preparing for a fight: arms close to her chest, muscles tight, chin up and eyes wide. Her senses are dialled up to eleven, and it’s like she can feel the tension buzz against her skin. Her mouth is dry. Still, she tries.

“I swear, I’ve been at Ned’s! We’ve been watching Star Wars, but this time we’re synching it up with Pink Floyd’s  _ Dark Side of the Moon _ , and honestly it’s kind of crazy how—”

“Ned’s mother hasn’t seen you all summer.”

Penelope’s mouth slams shut. Her sixth sense coils around her, like it’s expecting some attack from  _ somewhere _ , and this is worse than the anxiety attacks she used to get in middle school. She’s hyper-aware of every little thing, and it feels like time has turned to jelly.

“I called her last night. When you came home with a limp and you wouldn’t let me see your left wrist. Told me that you fell at Ned’s.”

She remembered that. A mugger, completely baseline human, had stomped down on her wrist when she’d gone to snatch up the purse on the ground. After she’d webbed him to the wall and returned the stolen purse, she had tried to swing away. But her wrist had protested, and she went careening knee-first into a building at full speed.

“She said that she had no idea what happened, because you hadn’t been to their house since school let out. Two and a half months ago.” Her voice was perfectly level, but her hand was shaking.

“Oh, did I say that I was at Ned’s? That’s a really funny story, but we’ve actually been going to MJ’s place, it’s just that I didn’t think that you’d let me be over there for so long because you haven’t actually met her, but we really wanted to go to hers, because I think Ned’s kind of into her? Like, as in—”

Penny was pulling words out of her ass. It is a signature move for both Spider-Man and Penelope Parker. They both bullshit a lot.

“Penelope. Please stop lying to me.”

Penelope stopped lying. She also stopped talking. What could she say?

“Where were you last night, Pen. And tonight? And every night since the beginning of your freshman year?”

Penelope slowly dragged her eyes up to make reluctant eye contact with Aunt May. She couldn’t keep it going too long—she stared aggressively at her lasagna. She could still feel Aunt May’s eyes on her.

“How do you keep getting hurt? I just don’t understand, what have you been doing? Where have you been going? Who—Who’s  _ doing  _ this to you?” Her voice wavered, and broke mid-sentence.

What could Penelope say? 

_ Oh, sorry Aunt May! See, a freaky mutated spider bit me, and now I’m also a freaky mutated spider! Naturally, instead of talking to you or seeking medical advice, I decided that I wanted to become a vigilante!  _

_ “ _ Penny,  _ please _ . Just tell me  _ something _ .”

_ I’m Spider-Man! I’ve been swinging through New York City (at night, like you always told me not to) and beating up bad people! Developing super-technology at Stark Industries to try to make sure that I don’t die at sixteen! I’ve been getting stabbed, punched, shot, and thrown into walls! And I’ve been lying to you about it! _

Yeah, no. It’s safer to let Aunt May draw her own conclusions, so that Penny can refute them. It’s not like May is going to assume that her niece is Spider-Man, and maybe if Penny can argue against whatever she’s been thinking, it’ll go back to normal.

“I know it’s not anyone at school. If anything, it’s gotten  _ worse  _ over the summer. At first I thought that it might be that internship of yours, but you were acting weird even before that—and you don’t go to Stark’s enough to account for all of your injuries.”

May pauses between almost every sentence. It’s obvious to Penny that her aunt is desperately hoping that Penny will jump in with an answer. She doesn’t have one, but she offers up something anyway.

“I’m just….really not supposed to talk about Fight Club?”   


Aunt May pushes back from the table, her chair screeching against the floor in protest. She stands up, and it hurts to see how she’s just barely shaking. When she speaks, her voice keeps shifting from furious to heartbroken. She stops more than once to swallow a sob.

“Be  _ serious _ , can’t you just be serious about this  _ one thing, Penelope _ . You’re all—you’re all that I have  _ left _ , and you won’t even talk to me! I don’t know what I did, and I don’t know what you’re doing, and I just don’t know how to fix it! I don’t know how to protect you from everything. I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be protecting you from. I just know that I….I’m failing.”

And Penelope is shooting up out of her seat, practically flinging herself over the table to hug her aunt, to comfort her. “You’re not failing, Aunt May. I’m the one who—I shouldn’t be this hurt, you’re right. I shouldn’t worry you like this. I’ll be more careful, I’ll be better, don’t even worry Aunt May. It’s not your fault, I swear it’s not your fault. I’ll be  _ better _ .”

And Penny can almost believe her own words—she’s already drawing up plans to try to limit her own injuries more than she already had. 

She can’t bring herself to cut back on patrol hours, even now, but if she spends less time on homework then she can get more sleep. She fights better after a few hours of sleep. Fewer injuries, May won’t have to worry.

She’s going to have a few classes with Ned next year, and he’ll surely let her copy his homework. And Penny can swallow her pride and ask Johnny to join her on patrols more often, because she almost never gets hurt during their team-ups. Better grades, and fewer injuries. May won’t have to worry.

And maybe she can spend next month working with Bruce to improve Karen’s first aid protocols, to reduce the extent of her injuries when they do happen. She’ll still have injuries, but they’ll leave faster. May won’t have to worry.

And maybe she can work on better cover-up, just in case bruises slip through? She can-She can-She can fix this right up, Aunt May will never have to see anything like this ever again. She can fix this. She can be better.

Aunt May does not relax even a millimeter. She’s still standing straight up, stiff and shaking. One of her hands is resting on Penny’s head, but that’s the only sign that she so much as registered Penny’s presence pressed against her.

“It’s this city, it’s this goddamn city. After Ben, I kept seeing muggers and danger around every corner, but I told myself that it’s not….it’s not real, May, you’re just imagining things, it’s just the trauma. And here you are, and it’s so real right now. And I’m going to lose you the same way that I lost him. I’m going to lose you to this city, Penelope, and I’m not going to let that happen. I  _ refuse _ .”

“—not gonna lose me, Aunt May, I’m being so careful, and even if it happened you’ll be taken care of, I promise, nothing would ever happen to yo—”

“We’re moving, Pen. I turned in my resignation two weeks ago. I just can’t let this happen to  _ you _ , to  _ us _ .”

And just like that, Penelope Parker’s whole life is about to change. Again.


	3. A Losing Battle and Parker Perseverance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Penny launches a campaign to stay in New York.
> 
> She fails.

Debate team might have been a short-lived venture (before it got nixed in favor of spandex and fractures), but it had shown Penny that she was very, very good at arguing. She was wordy, verbose in the extreme. She could wield emotion and humor as well as logic and detachment, and she could wear down any opponent if given enough time and incentive. It wasn’t unheard of for her to talk down the less committed criminals before things got serious (though it also wasn’t uncommon for her banter to send them into a larger fit than before. Can’t win them all!).

Anyway, Penny had always been able to convince Aunt May of the important things before. 

Things like: calling Penny to peacefully escort spiders out of the apartment, instead of killing them like they’d used to do. 

Things like: letting Ned sleep over at their place, after they’d both started to go through puberty. 

Things like: the importance of fire escape access and maintenance when it came time to pick a new apartment. 

Things like: giving up and allowing Penny to make dinner for the two of them, instead of condemning them both to late-night, inedible meatloaf every day of the week.

She’d only ever lost one argument with her Aunt May, and it happened right after take-your-child-to-work-day in fourth grade. Aunt May had insisted on taking Penny to the hospital, even if she spent most of her time in the reception area and break room, instead of with her Aunt. 

Penny had put her case together and presented a very reasonable argument: the hospital was boring, and she would rather be in Mrs. Mithes’ science class. They were learning about types of rocks, and it was  _ so cool _ . When that had not worked on May, Penny had whined out a  _ but I’m not even really your child _ and the argument had stopped right then and there. Penny had never seen her Aunt so sad, or so mad, before. She’d been sent to her room immediately, and Uncle Ben had come to her that night to explain a few things. 

Aunt May was upset because she loved Penny with all of her heart. It had hurt her when Penny said that she was not Aunt May’s child, because Aunt May loved her so very much. It made Aunt May feel like Penny did not think that she was loved, and that made her upset. She would do anything to make Penny feel loved, and to feel like she was wanted. Uncle Ben had explained all of that, and it made sense to her. Even if Uncle Ben and Aunt May were not her parents, she was their child.

Penny went to work with Aunt May, that year and every year thereafter. 

For the same reason, Penny would move out of New York City with Aunt May.

Not that she didn’t put up a fight. She did. It was a week long fight, in the Parker apartment. Aunt May’s resolve never wavered, no matter what Penny did.

She’d strategized before the every argument. Nothing Spider-Man related, obviously. Aunt May would never agree to let Penny live in New York without her—even if Penny had somehow convinced Mrs. Leeds or Mr. Stark to let her stay with them, she wouldn’t want to be without her Aunt either. And it didn’t seem like Aunt May was willing to let her ride into the city on the weekends, either—she wanted to move to  _ Northern California _ , for Thor’s sake!

 

On Monday:

“We can’t leave New York, Aunt May,” Penny ambushed May as she left for work the next day. “I go to school here!”

“They have schools in Beacon Hills, Pen. Good schools, even. It might not be Midtown Science, in terms of STEM, but it has its perks. It’s more balanced. Less stressful for you. It’ll be good for us.”

_ I don’t want less stressful. I don’t want a good school. I want my stressful mess of a school, that still has a few broken windows on the second floor from Electro’s attack last week.  _

 

On Tuesday: 

“The Stark Internship, Aunt May! I’m the only recipient in history, I can’t just give that up! Think of the doors it could open for my future!” Penny yelled outside of the bathroom while her Aunt showered.

“Mr. Stark has made it clear that he will support you no matter where you live. We’ve agreed on a Skype-based internship so you can keep him as a mentor. And he has a base out in Cali, doesn’t he? He could still visit. I’m not trying to ruin your life here, Pen!”

_ I’m not going to be able to be Spider-Man in Beacon Hills. Not while keeping my secret identity. I won’t be able to work on superhero stuff. I’ll be limited to whatever else Mr. Stark is willing to throw my way. I won’t be his protege anymore. He won’t care anymore.  _

But she can’t say that, of course.

 

On Wednesday:

“Ned will be lost without me, we’ve been together for over a decade! Almost two-thirds of my life! I can’t lose him now!” A message left on May’s phone, right before she was supposed to go on her break.

Aunt May tiptoes into her room that night, and brushed her hand through Penny’s hair. “He won’t lose you, darling. Neither of you will let that happen. He’ll make new friends—like that MJ?—but he won’t lose you.”

_ I don’t know if our friendship can survive that kind of distance, Aunt May. We’ve never been apart for more than a few days. If our friendship is built on school and movies and unpopularity, what will we talk about when we don’t have those things in common? _

 

On Thursday:

“I’ve finally been making new friends, like you wanted! There’s MJ, and I know I haven’t told you about him, but there’s this boy named Johnny that I think that I—” Right after a patrol, in the hallway. Her words full of frantic energy, practically begging into her Aunt’s clavicle.

“You’ll make new friends too. You’re a wonderful, smart, beautiful girl. You’ll make new friends.”

_ They won’t be like MJ _ , she wants to scream.  _ They won’t lovingly tear her ideas to pieces so she can build them up and better. They won’t leave her wondering if she just made a joke or a serious critique on the nature of mankind. They won’t leave little cartoons of their dumb classmates in her locker and then refuse to meet her eye for the rest of the day, because both of them will giggle if they make eye contact. _

_ They won’t be like Johnny,  _ she wants to cry.  _ They won’t rush after me headfirst into danger. They won’t look at me and see my strength. They won’t laugh and snort and tease until our stomachs hurt and our cheeks are sore. They won’t crack jokes while they help me snap my shoulder back into place. They won’t talk to me for hours on end about how it feels to be weightless, flying through the air, so far away from all of our other problems. They won’t burn our friendship into the New York skyline, for all of the world to see. _

 

And on Friday:

“I can’t leave New York, Aunt May. I can’t. This city is in my blood. I was born here, and I want to live here.”

“If we stay, you’re going to die here.” 

_ And that’s the one thing that she can’t argue. It’s true. It used to comfort her, late at night when all she wanted was to just stop. _

 

And then it’s Saturday and there are moving people at their apartment, and Penny has to get out of there. She can’t watch these people pack away her life, and she’s already removed all evidence of her vigilante activities from the apartment. 

So she goes to Ned’s. She owes him so much, but she can really only give him an explanation.

He asks so many questions—where is she moving, is she keeping her suit, is she going to keep being Spider-Man, is she still taking AP Chemistry because how different could the curriculum be even across the country? And she answers them—Beacon Hills, she’s going to take it with her but she’s not going to use it unless it’s an apocalypse level event, of course she’s still taking AP Chem she wants that college credit. And then he asks—

“Why so soon? You’re leaving tomorrow, how could you not know beforehand? Or did you just—not tell me?” His voice is a little shaky. It’s been getting steadily shakier throughout the conversation.

“She only brought it up last week. I really thought that I could change her mind, Ned. I can usually... I dunno.”

“Why? It can’t be like, a career move, right? She was doing just fine at the hospital here? And like, you both have whole entire lives here, like the internship and—oh my god, did she find out? About….. _ Spider-Man _ ?” He whispers the last word like they used to whisper curse words back in middle school.

“She doesn’t know exactly about it, but she know that I’ve been getting hurt. So we’re moving. I don’t know what she thinks it’ll do, but she’s decided.” Penny is tracing the patterns on Ned’s bedspread. It used to have stars and planets, and before that it had pawprints modelled after Blue’s Clues. Now it’s just pinstriped, which is less fun to trace. Just a bunch of lines.

“But I mean, it will work, right? You won’t be going out, so you won’t be hurt? Because I didn’t like it when you got hurt either, like when you’d come to school all busted up and fall asleep in class. Sometime I’d wake you just ‘cause I thought you might have a concussion, and that’s what you’re supposed to do?”

Penny doesn’t know how to respond, so she doesn’t. That’s never been a problem for Ned, however. He continues.

“I’m...Like I’m bummed that you’re leaving! That sucks so hard, she shouldn’t be able to take you away from me and school and MJ and stuff. And it sucks that you have to stop doing the  _ spider thing _ but, like. I miss when you didn’t almost die every week, and when you didn’t have bags under your eyes even when we didn’t stay up late playing Lego Star Wars. Maybe...this is an okay thing? As long as you call me! A lot!”

“I will. I’ll call you every day, Ned! You’ll get sick of me. We’ll Skype all throughout school. I mean, the time difference might make it hard. But I’ll wake up early to go to homeroom with you, digitally.”

“You’ll probably be able to spare the sleep, since you won’t be our saving the city for the entire night, huh?”

“I guess that could be a good thing. But I’m fine as I am, really!”

“Only if you judge by your own messed up definition. I would super not be fine if I was getting less than three hours of sleep a night. And the bruises I’ve seen on you have legit made me cry in sympathy.”

“Oh, legit?” She teases, but her heart isn’t in it. Her head’s in the game, but her heart’s in the song. If the song is preoccupation with the move and the subsequent abandonment of her superhero duties and friendships.

And for all of his questions at the beginning of her visit, by the end of it he’s nearly silent. He’s already made her promise to call him every day, and he’s promised to keep her updated on Midtown High and the superhero scene around the city. They’ve both promised not to watch any new Star Wars movies until they can watch them together. What else is there, really?

A friendship of ten years. They can survive three long distance years, right? At least until she applies to NYC-based colleges?

Absolutely.

When she leaves, Mrs. Leeds cries into her shoulder and tells her that she’ll always be welcome at their place, even if she wants to run away to them for a weekend. Penny can’t help but wonder where that attitude was when May came around and asked about Penny’s visiting habits, but she tries to throw away that bitterness. It’s really not Mrs. Leeds’ fault.

So. Two down (she left MJ a recording—not cowardly! MJ was just bad at in-person emotional displays) and one to go. Johnny.

Except, she didn’t know exactly how to contact him. He could trace flames into the sky, but her webs needed something to stick to. Unless she wanted to make a huge sticky mess, and one that people might not even notice at that, then she’d think a little.

Luckily, she is a bit of a genius.


	4. Missed Connections and Masked Affections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johnny Storm Shoves His Way Into This Fic With His Sheer Bullheaded Tenacity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the chapter that accidentally created a spideytorch spinoff. can y'all tell i love these two?

What she ends up doing is writing her message in webbing, on the George Washington bridge. It is not somewhere that Johnny will see it, but it IS somewhere that twitter users will see it and send it his way.

_flamebrain. meet at usual place. ASAP. webhead._

ASAP turns out to be fifteen minutes later. Go twitter!

She’s laying down on Lady Liberty’s head, one foot braced against her spiked headband, when Johnny comes streaking through the sky to land uncomfortably close to her head. He plops down next to her, sitting criss-cross-applesauce. His knee is resting against her shoulder. God, she was so _thankful_ to have a hero-friend her age.

“What’s the sitch, Spidey? You never message me! And I see why—your web-handwriting is shitty as hell!” His laugh peters out when she doesn’t join in. “Oh man. Serious Spidey. Alright, what’s up? Electro acting up again? A new dude tried to eat your dog or something?”

She groans, and Karen pitches it a little lower for her. She decides to get this over with.

“I’m moving. I mean, my civilian-self is moving. Out of New York.”

“.............Dude, it’s like, August. You’ve missed April Fool’s by about four months. Almost five.”

“I’m serious. I’m leaving New York. Hell, Johnny, I’m leaving the East Coast entirely! Tomorrow! In like a few hours!”

“Like...you’re moving away? Isn’t that gonna make your commute into the city kinda rough? I’d hate to see the roof-traffic you’re gonna have to sit through, pal.”

“Johnny. I’m moving. To California. There isn’t going to be a commute. It’s gonna be me, as a civilian, in freakin’ _California_.”

“I….Oh.”

Yeah. Oh.

Johnny just kind of stares at her for a full minute. She wonders what he sees in her mask at that moment.

And then he explodes a little. Not literally, although his hair starts smoking a little as it always does when he’s worked up about something.

“ _What!?_ That’s _insane_ ! You’re a freakin’ New York legend! You’re our hero! How could you _leave_?” He starts out baffled and angry, and his voice breaks on the last word.

It’s not fair--those are _her_ emotions to feel. He shouldn’t be hogging them.

“I don’t want to, alright! I don’t want to leave the city! I love it here! I love the city and my stupid school and my stupid friends, and you! I’m not leaving because I WANT TO!” It explodes out of her, leaves her panting a little by the end of it.

“Then—Spidey, then why—?”

“My family is making me move, Torch. They...they don’t understand. They don’t know. All they see is me coming home with bruises and bloody noses. And they don’t know why, so we’re fucking _moving_.”

Johnny is usually so emotive, his limbs flying all over the place in his excitement. It makes it more startling when he absolutely freezes.

“They don’t **_know_ **?”

And Penny looks away from him, into the sky. “No.”

“Does...does anyone know? From your civilian life?”

“A friend from school. Tony Stark, if he counts.”

Evidently, he doesn’t.

“Just—just a kid? Like us? Spidey, _we don’t know shit!_ How—I mean, who do you talk to about _this_?” He waves his hands around the both of them, apparently trying to convey that ‘this’ means ‘being a superhero and chilling on the statue of liberty with your superhero bro’ or something related to that.

“You. I thought that I talked to you about this stuff.” It was the right thing to say, apparently, because it knocks the wind out of his sails. He unfolds his legs and thumps to the ground (err, to Lady Liberty’s head) to lay down next to her.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. I wanted to let you know before I suddenly up and disappeared on you.”

“I—do you not have a phone or something? Are we platonically breaking up? New York’s Troublesome Twosome, just finished like that?” Johnny’s voice is pitched higher than usual, making him sound incredulous and uncertain at the same time.

“I don’t have—I mean, my civilian self has a phone.”

Johnny turns his head to look at her. “Oh.”

His eyes slide back to the clouds when she doesn’t respond. He doesn’t even ask her to take off the mask. He doesn’t ask for her civilian number, on her civilian phone, for her civilian persona.

Her heart breaks a little as she hesitates and glances around for helicopters that occasionally fly by. She sits up and crosses her legs, exactly how Johnny had been sitting earlier. And Karen starts to say “Penelope, don—” as she _takes off her mask._

“Hi.” Her voice sounds so much higher-pitched, now. It’s always so low, when she’s in the suit. She feels kind of squeaky like this.

Johnny hasn’t looked away from the sky, so she clears her throat and tries again.

“Johnny.”

This time, he looks over. And he does a double take, triple take, and he’s still looking at her funny on his fourth take.

“ _Spidey!?_ ”

Oh, nevermind. Her voice isn’t squeaky at all, compared to his just then.

“Penelope, actually. But Spidey works.”

“You’re—?”

“A girl? Brunette? A vigilante? Very, very nervous about revealing my identity to the Human Torch? Yeah.”

“Oh—wow. Okay, okay! I’m good! My world is re-aligning itself, just give it a moment to reload—all set! Wow. Okay.”

“Is that all? ‘Wow, okay’? Is—is that all?”

“It kind of makes sense. I mean, I totally kneed you in the junk last week when we were fighting and you didn’t even flinch. And you’re super short.”

“Stop! That’s the thing I’m sensitive about!” she cried in protest.

“Look at that high-waisted man, he got feminine hips,” Johnny quoted back instinctively, then paused. “Oh my god, you do though. How did I not notice?”

She shrugs. “Voice modulator, conditioned sexist perceptions of women, my ability to beat you up.”

“Wow, you’ve got my number, don’t you?”

“Not yet, but I’m trying.”

“Was that—are you _flirting_ with me, or just trying to keep in touch?”

She pitches her voice a bit deeper, trying to imitate Johnny. “I’m the Human Torch and I think that every girl I meet is flirting with me.”

And Johnny Storm? He blushes. Oh. My. God.

“No, nonono! I mean, I thought the same thing sometimes when you were a dude! I mean, when _I thought_ that you were a dude. Like, maybe you swung both ways, right?”

“Pun recognized, and stored for future reference. And for the record: I swing every way, but that doesn’t mean I was flirting! I wouldn’t even know how!”

“Well you did a good enough job with me?”

“Johnny we—I’m literally moving in like twelve hours? Across the country?”

“Oh my god.” Except he draws it out so it sounds like “oh my goooooooddddddddddd.”

“Yeah, hotshot.”

“Do you really have to? Sue loves you, you could probably stay at Baxter Tower? And if Stark knows, he could probably set you up with your own penthouse apartment. Just to keep you in the city. Or emancipation! You’re responsible, I bet the city would declare you an adult! Even if only to save the cops from the bad press that comes with shooting a minor!”

“Did you just ask me to move in with you?” She asked, only half-joking. _Johnny doesn’t half-ass anything, does he?_

“For the Greater Good! New York would fall apart without you! Did I tell you that the hotdog guy on our street corner has been nicer to me since we went there together last week? He didn’t even spit in my ketchup thingy yesterday!”

_Ah yes. My biggest accomplishment as a hero. Getting average New Yorkers to be polite, sometimes._

“I can’t move in with you, or Mr. Stark, or anybody. I can’t leave my Aunt, Johnny. I just can’t do it. She’s the reason that I wear the mask, dude. And she’s the reason why you’re not gonna tell ANYBODY that my name is Penny, or that I’m a girl, or even that I have brown eyes. You got that?” Penny turns again to watch him carefully. She doesn’t really think that Johnny will tell anybody, but she can’t afford to let this get lost in translation. He nods seriously, and she turns back to looking up again.

She can hear the smile return to his face when he says, “Yeah, of course man! Not even Sue. Not even my diary. Kidding! I’m kidding.” He laughs when she smacks his stomach playfully. It’s the only part of him that she can reach without shifting out of her comfy cloud-watching position.

A few clouds crawl by before he speaks again. “Penny, huh?”

She grins. “Penelope Parker. You can call me Pen, Penny, Parker, Spidey, Webhead, or Spider-Man. Hyphen included.”

“What about Arach-Nerd?”

“Hmm. No.”

“New York’s Favorite Menace?”

“Oh, have I finally beaten the Hulk in the polls?”

“Duh, like ages ago. Don’t you read the iconic literary stylings of Sir John Jonah Jameson, Jr.? He is ever-so up-to-date with life in the big city.” Penny tries to hit him in the stomach again, but this time he flames up before she can make contact and she flinches away.

“Curses!” She wails dramatically. “My dastardly assassination attempt on the Human Torch has been foiled! The New York Menace, brought down by the Torch’s fiery hot abs!”

“Can I quote you on that? I want it right there on the cover of my memoir.”

“You know what? Sure. When we’re old and gray, and your abs have left you for a younger man. You can publish it then.”

“Aw, Spidey. You saying you’ll still be with me when we’re old and frail?” Johnny sounds a little too touched by this, and ruins any facade he had going when he snickers. “God, we’re gonna be like Reed. Going gray and completely out of touch with the world, but still serving villains.”

“Isn’t Dr. Richards like….forty, tops? And not only completely lucid, but also one of the most intelligent people that we’ll know in our lifetime?”

“Am I wrong though?”

“God, you have a point. How does Sue stand it?”

Johnny shrugs. “Love, or whatever.”

“I could love Sue. I do love Sue! Everyone loves Sue. If she married me instead, I’d be like your step-mom.”

“And she’d be a pedophile.”

“Point taken and accepted. I will turn my affections elsewhere.”

“Yeah, to California.” Johnny doesn’t even sound broken or bitter about it, like how it makes her feel. He just says it like it’s a fact. It makes her a little...angry? Defensive? It makes her feel some way.

“Not to California. New York is _mine_ . This is my city! I love this place with everything that I _am_ , Johnny. I’ve bled for this place! I’ve given _everything_ for this beautiful trash heap! California could never, _never_ replace what I have here. It can’t even try.”

That makes Johnny smile. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“And you’ll visit, on breaks and over the summer. I can pick you up, we can make a flying road trip out of it. Or we could take the jet, so I don’t have to carry your heavy ass—not that you’re heavy! Old habits!” Johnny backtracks quickly, obviously having forgotten that she’s a girl. It warms her heart a little, that Johnny didn’t abandon their banter entirely after learning who she really is.

“Everyone is probably heavy when it’s your puny arms trying to lift them,” she grins, trying to raise and flex her own bicep to make her point. It is very difficult in her current position, but she tries. Johnny sees her struggle and laughs at her, naturally.

“And you’ll go to college here, obviously. We’ll apply to the same places and everything. Maybe we’ll start a whole new university for young heroes. Tuition paid for by the city, students are excused if their villains start making a fuss.”

“God, I forgot that tuition was a thing for a brief second. Can’t I have one second of peace in this capitalist hellhole?” She groans, throwing her arm over her face. Johnny’s snicker makes her grin against her elbow.

“I suppose some of us aren’t lucky enough to be literal millionaires, huh? Why don’t you pull yourself up by your bootstraps—Parker?” The last word is obviously hesitant, waiting for her to correct or admonish him.

“My superhero suit doesn’t have bootstraps, Storm.”

“Guess you’re really screwed then. Huh.”

“Oh, I’m sure that’s why.”

“You know, if you ever need a sugar daddy—” Johnny wriggles his eyebrows ”—I’m absolutely available.”

“Thanks, but Mr. Stark gave me a company credit card that I’m too scared shitless to actually use. I don’t know if it actually has a limit. He never said.”

“God, why does everyone think that you’re the responsible one? You accidentally webbed yourself to a Starbucks bathroom stall a few weeks ago!”

“I told you that in confidence, fucker!” Her scowl is wasted on the clouds, but Johnny can probably hear it in her tone.

“That was a mistake.”

“Well, I’m not the reason that the Statue of Liberty has scorch marks on the top of her head!”

“Yeah, when do you think people will notice that? It happened like weeks ago.”

“When it gets out, you’re going to have to seek patriotic absolution from Captain America himself.”

Johnny giggles. “So, you’ve accidentally burned Lady Liberty,” he intones, perfectly mimicking the Captain’s Detention Condemnation. It makes Penny snort, which makes Johnny’s giggles turn into deep belly laughs, which makes Penny go weak with the force of her own laughter. If she weren’t Spider-Man, she’d probably fall off the Statue of Liberty with the way that she’d be rolling around everywhere. As it is, she has to tuck her face against Johnny’s quaking bicep so he doesn’t see the happy tears pooling at the corners of her eyes.

God, she’s going to miss this _so much_.


	5. Beacon Hills and Borscht

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Beacon Hills, Folks

The flight to California is terrible. Penny’s spider-sense hates enclosed spaces. There’s not enough to focus on, so it compensates by focusing very hard on everything. Every time someone moves too suddenly, Penny flinches.

Aunt May looks like she wants to comfort her, but Penny hasn’t said one word to her Aunt since she came back from saying goodbye to Johnny. Things between them are tense. Some part of her loves her Aunt for trying to protect her, but the angry part of her is louder. 

_ She doesn’t understand _ , a part of her seethes.

_ Because you won’t tell her _ , another part of her replies, sounding like a bored and matter-of-fact MJ.

So she texts her friends. 

Ned tries to distract her with gossip about Flash (apparently he got a job at a frozen yogurt place down the street, and she moved away before she got the chance to go there and watch him squirm). 

MJ wrote “oof. sux.” before sending her a request on Words With Friends and three different cat videos.

Johnny offers to fly alongside the plane, and then offers to send Reed’s jet to meet up with them at their layover airport. When she refuses (what would she say to Aunt May?) he asks questions about her civilian life. It’s nice. She’s still anxious.

She even resorts to texting Happy. He sends a quick, “I’ll miss this, squirt.” He doesn’t respond again. Some things never change, huh?

When the plane touches down, and everyone claps to celebrate the fact that they did not die horribly while mid-air, she could cry in relief. She relaxes enough that Aunt May dares to say, “I didn’t know that you’d be such a nervous flier. I’m sorry, Pen. We would’ve driven, if I’d known.”

It was the wrong thing to say. “We wouldn’t have needed to fly in the first place if you listened to me, or considered how I feel for once.” And okay, she knows it was too harsh before she finished saying it. But it felt so good, to get it out. “Sorry. Yeah. We’ll drive next time, when we go back.”

Aunt May looks like she wants to protest something, before she reconsiders. “Yeah. ‘Course, Pen.”

She falls asleep on the drive from the airport to her new house. It’s exhausting, being so mad and anxious and scared. She hasn’t felt this way since her very first time out as Spider-Man.

* * *

The house is a mess. The exterior is fine, but the second she steps inside, she understands how they were able to buy it so quickly and for such an appealing price.

It’s a fixer-upper. A time consuming project, for someone with nothing but skill, passion, and a lot of down time.

Penny can see why May bought it. Penny has always loved fixing up the hopeless cases. She loves taking her time and exploring a project, watching as things get better piece by piece, as other people begin to find use and beauty in a thing that she built. This house might as well have come out of a textbook for how well it falls in line as a “therapeutic coping mechanism for budding young perfectionist geniuses.”

Penny is begrudgingly impressed.

May does not stop beaming throughout her tour of the place. Every time she opens a door, Penny is vaguely reminded of that game show—and behind door number one, we have…….. _ a crummy room, in need of some real TLC! _

It’s gotten to the point where Penny is getting genuinely excited about the renovations that she can make to these rooms. And Aunt May can tell.

“The original owners had a office in this one, but I’m a nurse. I don’t really need an office space. I thought that maybe….Well, you used to keep all of your old projects in your room, and then you kept them at your internship. I thought that maybe this room could be all yours. Your office, or workshop, or laboratory. To do your thing.” 

And this is the first time that Penny considers that the move doesn’t have to be entirely bad. That this isn’t a punishment for not being good enough. For not balancing her life well, or for making May worry. 

California can’t have Spider-Man. It can’t have Ned, or MJ, or Johnny. It can’t have Mr. Stark, or the apartment building that Uncle Ben had kept afloat for almost two decades. It can’t have her heart and soul. 

But it’ll have Aunt May. It’ll have this new workshop. It’ll have her sleeping well for the first time in months, probably. It’ll let her throw out the cover-up that she’s developed specifically to hide her bruises. It’ll have one whole Penny Parker, instead of a Penelope and a Spider-Man. It doesn’t have to be a desolate hellhole. 

She feels ashamed when she sits down on the dirty hardwood and cries. But when May sits down next to her and makes comforting noises, it feels like therapy. 

* * *

 

The unpacking process is taking forever. They keep getting distracted by old stuff that they had forgotten they had. And it’s doesn’t help that they don’t own nearly enough stuff to fill this house. 

The dining room is unpacked, but the walls still look grimy and she wants to power wash everything. 

Their bedrooms are unpacked in the strictest sense of the word—her bed exists, and her posters are laying on her floor, and her clothes are still in her suitcase because her dresser broke in transit. She wants to make a new one, but woodworking from scratch is not one of her many skills. 

Penny gets distracted while she’s trying to put the kitchen together. It’s the only room in the house that doesn’t look like a warzone. In fact, it looks sleek and modern, and very pretty. It’s as if the last homeowner thought that a decent kitchen would make up for the rest of the place. 

“I don’t know how they did this! How did they break our toaster on the move over here? It’s missing a spring, Aunt May—did they open up our toaster and take a single spring? And then put everything else back into place perfectly? Did you hire psychopath moving men?”

The gutted remains of their toaster lies before her on the shiny new kitchen tiles.

Penny is sprawled across the floor, eagerly digging through the metal carcass before her. There is, indeed, a missing spring. But Penny can make the toaster work without it, and she’s also thinking that maybe she can pluck a coil or two out of there to make...well, something cool and vaguely dangerous. A fire hazard, for sure.

“Penelope,” Aunt May pants out from somewhere in the house. “Penelope, fix the toaster later, help carry the couch  _ now _ .”

Oof. That’s definitely a job for Spider-Man.

* * *

  
  
School starts tomorrow. They've been fixing the place up for a week—or, at least, Penny has. Every day has been nonstop housework—it becomes more and more obvious that they could only afford the move from apartment-dwellers to homeowners because said home was  _ busted _ . Penny thanks the heavens that Uncle Ben was the super in their last building, and she knew how to do this home repair stuff.

For the most part, May is at her new nursing job and leaves her to it—which is for the best, really, because sometimes Penny gets careless and bends metal with her hands, or climbs up the wall for better access to the lights. But she’s getting stuff done. The sink isn’t spitting rust anymore, the lights don’t flicker, and their air conditioner doesn’t weep every time they look at it funny anymore. It still doesn’t cool the house, so Penny feels gross all the time. She’s sweaty and sticky, her hair is either a rat’s nest or up in a bun, and she’s taken to wearing only a sports bra and basketball shorts when she’s working like this. She can do that now—show some skin—because her bruises have all healed, and her ribs feel normal for the first time in weeks.  _ Aunt May must be thrilled _ , Penny thinks, bitterly and uncharitably, before she pushes those feelings away. Not productive. She’s getting past that. 

So, she’s sweaty and dressed like a mess, and she has paint on some weird places because she’s just finished painting the walls in their guest room. She has paint all over  her feet, from where she forgot that the walls were wet and walked right up them. And she’s a little cranky. The wi-fi isn’t up, she’d had to remake dinner because Aunt May had begged her to make enough borscht to feed a small army, and she’s used to being able to take out her adolescent rage on the criminal underbelly of New York City.

She is not prepared for company. The house is—thanks to her efforts—only mostly prepared for company. 

Naturally, Aunt May invites someone(s?) over to the house, without telling Penny. 

Later, she’ll think:  _ That’s fair. If she’d told me, I would’ve made myself scarce.  _ But for now, she’s just bitter.

The doorbell rings, a few rooms away from where Penny is trying to figure out why the window shakes when she turns the sink on.  _ That’s weird _ , she thinks.  _ I already made dinner. Why did Aunt May get takeout when she asked for so much borscht? _

But she isn’t worried—who is she to judge her Aunt for her cravings? Penny had once stolen some tamales from a man who held up a bank. Also, who brings a bagged lunch to a bank robbery?—until she hears her Aunt say, “Oh, I’m so glad that you made it! Come in! Don’t mind the mess—we’re still getting everything settled down. I’m sure you remember what  _ that’s _ like, Melissa.”

_ Oh.  _

_ Oh no. _

Penny half-considers clambering out the window, but their neighbors will surely notice a girl scuttling along the wall of the house like it’s nothing.

She hears a new woman reply with, “It was about a decade ago, but the trauma has stuck with me. I’m surprised you got this place together already, all of Beacon Hills knew that Mrs. McNamara let the place go when her husband died.”

That makes Penny feel a little bad about cursing the previous homeowners so vehemently; it makes sense that a helpless old lady owned the place and completely neglected every inch of it. Except for the kitchen, where she probably baked sweet old lady cookies. 

It also makes Penny feel a lot panicked, because she suddenly knows why Aunt May asked her to make such a large dinner.  _ Oh no, company. _

So she steps back onto the floor and makes a silent break for the shower. And then she hears, “Oh, that’s mostly Penny. She’s been a huge help around the house this past week. You should’ve seen the place a few days ago! Completely unlivable. PENNY! WE’VE GOT COMPANY!”

And so Penny is stuck. She can’t shower now that she’s been summoned. And she can’t run without making a pretty bad impression on these strangers—who, with her luck, are the local police, the town’s mayor, and the principal of BHHS.

There’s a part of her that’s blatantly freaking the fuck out ( _ i’m a mess and i don’t want to talk to these people and aunt may didn’t even ask me _ ), there’s a part of her that’s defiantly okay ( _ honestly, who cares what strangers think. I’m rocking the hobo-maintenance-man look, and the paint brings out my eyes. probably.),  _ and the rest of her is just thinking— _ yeah, this might as well happen today _ .

She takes the time to wash paint off of her hands, just in case an adult makes a move to shake hands. She straightens up her spine, tilts up her chin, pops onto the balls of her feet, and rolls her shoulders a few times. It’s a move that she usually pulls before diving into a streetfight, and it always centers her. It works here, too. She’s Spider-Man! Who cares what a bunch of civilians think!

And she walks down stairs to see her Aunt’s sheepish face, obviously knowing that she’s messed up at least a little.

And there is one single old person—not that old though, she’s hot in the mom kind of way—who is looking around the living room with an expression of polite interest.

She plasters on her endearing-to-adults face, and turns to address the interloper.

“I’m Penny Parker—or Pen, or Penelope, I answer to pretty much anything. I’ve heard so much about you!” she chirps, and also lies.  _ Who are you _ ? “Sorry about the mess, I haven’t tackled the living room yet.”

“Melissa, Melissa McCall. I work with your mother, at Beacon Memorial? I moved here a few years back, and I know how much of a hassle it is to meet people. I was going to stop by with my son—he’s about your age, actually—but he’s practicing for lacrosse tryouts tomorrow. It’s so nice to meet you!”

_ God, how does Aunt May make friends so easily? It’s not fair! _

“Well, I’m glad that my  _ Aunt  _ May has someone actually cool to talk to at work. At Elmhurst, she was surrounded by some real Debbie Downers.”

Melissa gives her a real grin, despite the way that she faltered when Penny corrected her original maternal-progeny assumption.  _ Guess Aunt May hadn’t doled out the whole Tragic Parker Past, huh? _

“Well, I try not to be a downer. And your aunt’s basically been a ray of sunshine around the clinic, so I’d say that I’m in good company. Sorry,” she said, looking down at Penny’s...attire. “Did I interrupt your working? I can head out, if you want.”

“No, no!” said Penny, making a split second decision. “Stay, I made a metric ton of borscht. And I bet Aunt May could really use some adult company, right about now. I’ve been pretty bad company, with all of the repairs and teenage moving angst.”

“Oh, thank god I never had to deal with that. I’d hate to see Scott’s angst-face. The boy is just non-stop smiles, I don’t know how he does it!” But it’s plain to see where her son’s apparent good-naturedness comes from, because Melissa looks thrilled by Penny’s willingness to banter a little.

May does, too. In fact, May looks kind of like she’s on the verge of happy tears. It probably has something to do with the fact that Penny is acting a little like she used to, months ago. It’s also probably because she’s not driving away May’s new friend out of spite. 

Melissa is actually really cool. She ties her hair back and asks to be to put to work for a while, so the three of them finish off painting the guest room in short order. 

Melissa is also game to answer all of the questions that Penny has about the town. There is not a skate park. There is not a gymnastics center. She doesn’t even shoot her a disbelieving look when Penny asks if the school gym is open to students before or after school. No WAY is Penny losing her Spider-Man muscle. 

When they’re done, all three of them grab a bowl of borscht and sit on the floor of the living room, with some House Hunters International playing in the background. It’s super relaxed, and exactly like the kind of thing that Uncle Ben insisted on doing once a week back when he was alive. It gives her a little hope that adulthood won’t suck ass. It also makes her think that her Aunt really  _ is  _ a functioning adult, and that every functioning adult is just a little weird. 

Sometimes, Melissa will start talking to Aunt May about hospital stuff, or Beacon Hills adult stuff, or single-mom stuff, and Penny will be left out. But just as often, Melissa will turn to Penny and talk about BHHS, or express her amazement at Penny’s work around the house, or alludes to the fact that her son is single. She doesn’t even laugh when Penny blushes and stutters a little. 

Penny goes on three separate rants in quick succession (the way that society encourages women to be unskilled in manual labor as a tool to keep them dependent on the men in their lives, and then about the origins of borscht and the various countries that claim it as their national food, and then a passionate defense of New York’s public transit).

Unsurprisingly, May looks downright thrilled that Penny is relaxed and passionate about something enough to ramble like this again. Surprisingly, Melissa takes it like a champ and nods along with every topic, laughing away Penny’s sheepish apology.

“I’m used to it, honey. Scott’s friend would talk himself to death if we didn’t remind him to breathe occasionally. At least you’re talking about stuff that doesn’t require a deep and intricate understanding of the extended Star Wars universe.”

And Melissa downright snorts when Penny lights up at the mention of Star Wars, clearly about to start up another enthusiastic tirade. Aunt May shuts it down quickly with a cry of “Spoilers! Spoilers, Penny!”

“It’s only a spoiler because you refuse to watch it with me!” Penny argues, not for the first time in her life.

“I bet that’s why she refuses to watch it with you!” Melissa nudges May and cackles when May shoots her a disgruntled look.

They let another few minutes pass in silence, eating their beetroot soup and watching foolish couples make poor real estate decisions. The episode ends, and another one starts up.

“Why is it so satisfying to watch?” Aunt May wonders aloud. “I’m not interested in real estate or interior design.”

“Schadenfreude. It’s fun to laugh at the bad taste of other people,” Melissa offers.

“And it’s fun to see pretty houses and modern kitchens, especially when you live in a NYC cubicle or a broken Beacon Hills house,” Penny says, while debating the merits of a third bowl of borscht. Is it safe to eat that much beetroot? How much until your piss turns pink?

“God. This is nice.” Melissa looks like she’s melted on the floor, with her head propped up on the palm of her hand so she can watch the TV. 

“Slavic food and reality TV?” May asks, giving Melissa a teasing look. “Being paid for your labor in borscht and conversation?”

“All of the above. I  _ never  _ get to watch shows like this. And my house smells like teenage boy and I don’t know how to get it to stop. It’s just me and Scott—sometimes he has a friend over, and it’s like I forget what estrogen even  _ is _ . ”

It’s funny, because it’s exactly what Uncle Ben used to faux-complain about any chance he got. 

_ I’m outnumbered, here!  _ he’d joke whenever they persuaded him into a manicure.  _ It’s just gonna get uglied up again when I do man stuff. _

But Penny’s manicure would be ruined too, when she helped her Uncle. And he’d always fix it for her right after. 

“Well, we’ve got nothing but girls here. You’re free to stop by anytime, if you want?” Penny makes the offer, after May is silent for a few seconds, just kind of staring at Melissa. Is her aunt blushing?

“You know what? I think I might take you guys up on that.”  Melissa says, before turning the topic back to the television. She has some delightful commentary about the weird layouts of homes abroad; both Penny and Melissa absolutely lose it when the couple on the show throws a fit over the molding in the bedroom. May tries to argue in their favor, but she giggles halfway through and then all three of them are laughing. 

It’s...nice. It’s really nice. Things haven’t been this nice at home since before Spider-Man, actually. For the past year and a half, laughing hurt her ribs and she hadn’t had many good moments with her Aunt.

“If you guys want, I know a few people that I could strongarm into helping you to get this place in order. The Stilinski’s are good people, and the Sheriff isn’t bad looking at all.” Melissa whispers the last words conspiratorially, directing the words at Penny but winking at Aunt May.

When Penny laughs at her Aunt’s expense, Melissa crows out, “Oh, just you wait ‘til Stiles gets a load of you, kid. We’ll see who’s laughing then!”

Before Penny can say that she doesn’t have time for boys—which isn’t strictly true, because her schedule cleared up a whole lot with the move to Beacon Hills—May refuses the offer and starts talking about their new boss and asking how receptive he is to requests for time-off. 

Yeah, Melissa is pretty cool. And looking at her Aunt, it’s pretty plain to see that it isn’t the Sheriff that May’s going to be pining over.

Melissa doesn’t head out until the third episode of House Hunters is finished, and she takes some tupperware full of soup with her. 

“For Scott,” she’d explained. “Even though he probably won’t like it. It’s this or he can pay for takeout.” 

When the door closes behind Melissa, Aunt May turns to sweep her niece into a hug. 

For the first time in quite a while, her spider-sense is completely silent. It feels disconcerting. But also nice. Very, very nice.

**Author's Note:**

> All comments have a special place in my heart <3


End file.
